


Foundations

by sakurahaiku



Category: Pocket Monsters SPECIAL | Pokemon Adventures, Pocket Monsters | Pokemon - All Media Types
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-29
Updated: 2019-06-29
Packaged: 2020-05-29 14:31:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,791
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19402255
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sakurahaiku/pseuds/sakurahaiku
Summary: Room by room, Red made the framework his home. A sanctuary. A place to rest and lay his head.(As innocent as it all was, they had given each other their hearts)





	Foundations

**Author's Note:**

> Okay hello. 
> 
> So the last time I published something new for this fandom was 6 years ago, and I honestly never expected to write for it again. Unfortunately, getting into a mood to read something specific and not being able to find it sparks a fire in me that makes me want to write. 
> 
> So here we are. 
> 
> Please enjoy this loosely-edited foray back into the world of Pokemon.

Red settled for making a home in the forest. Being champion had its perks, and a steady stream of money was one of them. Red had never had much growing up, and suddenly having cash in his wallet didn’t make him want anything either. As he grew older, however, his need for stability, a home base, became fervent. The nomadic lifestyle he had created for himself in his adolescence no longer felt right. It no longer felt like a life he wanted to live.

So, he mapped it out, and quietly had his house built brick by brick. He showed the blueprints to Green, who silently nodded his approval. Red oversaw the process, and slowly the house built up around him. Room by room, Red made the framework his home. A sanctuary. A place to rest and lay his head.

His time on Mt. Silver had made him appreciate nature, which lead him in turn to the outskirts of Viridian Forest. Careful not to disturb the wildlife too much, his house wove between the trees. It was secluded enough that he would never be bothered by those who didn’t know where to find him. Close enough to the forest’s edge that he could leave on official business whenever he was needed. As the years since that battle at Indigo Plateau drifted away, he found himself needed less and less. The downside to being an unbeatable champion meant that sometimes one’s presence was no longer wanted or required. Red had long since considered giving up the title, but lost his voice whenever the topic was broached. They were words he didn’t quite know how to say, not even to himself.

His Pokémon, his partners, thrived in the forest. He let them wander as need be, knowing that they would always find their way home. Looking out his window one evening, watching Saur curl up for the night, Red realized that many trainers could forget how wild Pokémon were. He didn’t need to coddle them; they were right at home in the trees and grass. Gyara was the only one who stayed in his PokéBall, though Red flew out weekly to make sure the Gyarados was able to swim freely. The rest came when needed. He never had to call for them. They all knew when Red would need them by his side.

Red had lived a lonely life. He had distant memories of a mother, of a father, but nothing concrete. Poli was his oldest companion. Red had hoped that having a home would entice his busy friends to drop by, but they could never come by often enough for him. Red wasn’t angry. Blue was always gallivanting off somewhere in the world, sending him postcards and (presumably stolen) knick-knacks from whatever city she was in that day. Green was busy with his duties as a gym leader, even though they weren’t far from one another. They checked up on one another, however, sending messages through their PokéGears. Red’s were always longer than Green’s, and they were both content that way.

Yellow was his most frequent visitor, and she appreciated his growing dedication to nature. She would never have to knock; simply approaching his house she would draw the attention of one or more of his Pokémon. He would often look out his window and see her riding closer to him on Saur’s back. His team trusted her as much as he did. Her innocent smile when she greeted him was never-changing, even as she approached her twenties.

They would walk together through the forest until Yellow found a place she liked. There they would sit and talk, and Yellow would sketch – or fish, should the feeling entice her – until the sun would start to set. Oftentimes, Yellow would fall asleep under the afternoon sun. Red would watch as her head would loll forward, and he would lean back and fall asleep himself. Some days, Yellow’s head would find itself on his shoulder and he would feel her quiet breath on his arm or his neck. He would not fall asleep those day; he would not dare to move. For him, ruining this moment would be committing a sin. Pika and ChuChu would often lie beside them, or run off by themselves into the woods, as two lovers do.

Red spent his summer days like this. Watching his Pokémon from his windows, messaging Green, reading the letters Blue sent. Contemplating life. Walking with Yellow in the woods and sitting by her in simple silence. Often feeling the tug of his heart to just reach out and hold her hand, but the fear of aggravating her anxiety stopped him every time.

Seasons change, and summer turned to winter at Red’s house. He Pokémon were often kept in their balls now, and he knew they were thankful. Pika and Vee would sometimes wander around the house, curling up next to the warmth of the fireplace. Red, though still young, could feel the weight of his years of travelling on his bones. He wondered what that weight felt like on the back of his teammates. As hard as he worked, his partners put in double. They deserved their rest and relaxation.

Yellow still came and visited; the weather never stopped her. They couldn’t spend their days outside anymore, but they still sat and talked. Red learned that she preferred a warm herbal tea over hot chocolate and coffee, and he made sure to always have some in his cupboard, always anticipating a visit from her. She sketched less in the winter, but she talked more. They would fall asleep on his couch, her head on his shoulder. He could feel how deeply she slept, though he always knew she slept heavily. Slowly, eventually, he built up his nerve. And one day, after her head was securely against him, he adjusted his arm until it lay lazily around her shoulder. She stayed asleep, and he succumbed to slumber too. If she woke up before him, he never knew.

He became bolder in his movements – though he strove to match her innocence – while they were awake. His breath would hitch every time he brushed her shoulder, placed his body close to hers, anticipating rejection. Yellow, as naturally as she did everything, adjusted to him comfortably, as easily as she breathed. Red had always been alone from his earliest memories, and had never imagined that another human could fit so perfectly with him. So, he reveled in the easy comfort that was Yellow. As innocent as it all was, they had given each other their hearts.

She would sometimes stay the night in one of his guest bedrooms, especially as winter turned to spring. They would be up late listening to the rain, fingers intertwined, and she would yawn. Yellow would say her goodnights, and curl up in bed, Sometimes, she let her Pokémon out and they slept beside her. Other times they were in their balls, Yellow being too tired to remember to take them out. As the snow melted, her Pokémon would join his outside. It was the natural order of things. Eventually, they had stopped coming back to the house even in the rain; the Pokémon had found a nearby cave and were comfortable there no matter what spring weather came their way.

On a particularly stormy night, Red heard her gasp at the sound of thunder. He crawled out of his own bed, staring quickly out the window at the downpour. Sparing a quick thought for the Pokémon, he continued his journey to her bedroom. With a slight knock on the door, he stepped inside. She looked at him with tired eyes, and he met them. Slowly, cautiously, experimentally, he walked towards her, sitting next to her. Wordlessly, he grabbed her hand, his thumb encasing Yellow’s. She gave a grateful squeeze.

Carefully, he pulled his body down to lie next to her. He could hear her breath hitch, and Red wondered if he had gone too far, was being too bold. He relaxed when he heard Yellow’s breath even out, and could feel the natural comfort come between them. He moved himself under the covers, and Yellow buried her head into his chest. Thunder roared, and yet they both drifted off to sleep. They woke up in each other’s arms, comfortably and naturally.

As summer rolls around again, and Red had spent a year in his house, he contemplates being alone. His earliest memories were of him alone. Even now, even with all the friends he has made, there is a part of him that believes he is destined for solitude. He looks up at the rafters and he wonders when this fantasy will come crumbling down around him, forcing him back into his nomadic life. He looks out the window, and he always sees Yellow’s smiling face surrounded by their Pokémon. She’s waiting for him to come outside so they can walk through the forest.

The signs of Yellow’s occupancy are everywhere, and Red feels relief wash over him that he is not alone. The rafters of his house – their house – will not fall down around them. He steps out into the summer sun and takes Yellow’s hand, entwining their fingers together. As in the summer before, and as will be in the summers to follow, they sit in innocent silence. They talk and nap and fish and sketch. Sometimes he will bring her fingers up to his lips as they walk, sometimes her lips will brush against his chin before they nap. It is the language of their love.

When the sun goes down and she’s curled up into the side of his body, he contemplates the foundation of his house. It is a place he built to contemplate nature, to be his sanctuary. A place for his Pokémon to run wild and free, and for himself to do the same. Yet, subconsciously, he built it to nurture this love with Yellow. Her roots go deep through the forest, and so does the foundation of his house, his heart.

His eyes will eventually close, and his breathing will match hers. And he will dream of summer afternoons ten years from now, with her hand securely and comfortably in his. He will dream of foundations in life that complement one another, as they already do. And he will dream of Pokémon living freely in the forest, where they are comfortable and wild and free.

And he will dream of a promise of autumn. When the leaves will match their names. And their footsteps are in tandem with one another. And he will bring her fingers to his lips and whisper her name. And the language of their love will echo through the wind.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!
> 
> Whether or not I write anything else for Pokemon Special is up for debate (though I have some ideas; damn you brain), but I hope you appreciated it. I wish this fandom was a bit more active, but it is what it is. 
> 
> Perhaps we will meet again.


End file.
